


Neritic

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Sidon tries not to be down about being trapped in a Hylian tank. At least he can see Link sometimes.





	Neritic

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “Aquarium” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158937866370/fic-bingo).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He wakes to a loud knock against the ‘glass’ of his cage—a word one of the Hylians shouts again, amidst others that Sidon has yet to decipher. It’s all muffled, but he’s heard enough waterlogged Hylian to put bits together anyway—it’s just a shame they don’t seem to be gathering any of his words back.

When he lets himself wake up properly, yawning loudly and peering up, he finds the source of the noise—a tiny Hylian’s climbed onto the low-sloping dome again. Sidon kicks off the rock he was lounging on to breach the surface of the water, where’s there’s a small pocket of air between him and that glass ceiling. The child clinging to the glass laughs delightedly at seeing him, which Sidon returns with a toothy grin, but then a larger Hylian rushes off and plucks the little one off. The child cries, though Sidon feels a small stab of jealousy—if only his father could come carry _him_ off.

His father, as far as he knows, is at least safe back in their domain, hopefully coaching all their subjects to stay well beneath the surface unless the coast is truly clear—it seems that the newest generation of Hylians isn’t as kind to the Zoras as those of old. One of the ancient Hylians, before the calamity and the loss of their Sheikah-translated languages, would’ve known that Sidon only wanted to talk, not be _taken_. They would never have carted him off in crawling, guardian-like machines to a giant, aquatic prison, and kept him there without charges for what feels like years. In truth, it’s only likely been months, but it _feels_ longer. With the absence of a child’s innocent face to look at, Sidon drifts back beneath the surface. The one wall of his cage that’s entire glass only has two Hylians at it now, holding hands and pointing at him. Sidon ignores them and sinks back to his rock. 

He tries not to blame them. He tries not to _hate_ them or to mope, even though it would be dreadfully easy, because he came into this mess a relatively cheerful person, and he doesn’t want to be corrupted. He wants to cling to hope that someday they’ll let him free again, and when that day comes, he’ll thank them with a smile, and he’ll start a new understanding between their peoples like their once used to be. In the meantime, he wishes they’d just take his speech as more than the gurgling of other fish. 

A group of Hylians near the top pound the dome again, but these are a three nasty-looking adults that Sidon has no interest in entertaining. One of them pries at the metal flap at the base of the dome that he was first thrust in through, but the panel, even if it were unlocked, would take a good five of them to open. Sidon knows from experience how well sealed in he is; there’s little point trying to escape again. 

One of the tubes in the side of his tank signals the morning by sliding back a hole too small for even his arm, and a stream of tiny fish swim through. Though he feels guilty ending things that lead such shallow lives as him in this place, his stomach rumbles, and he swims off to catch one.

* * *

When the sun’s high in the blue sky behind his dome, a familiar Hylian woman comes by his tank, followed by a gaggle of children. The main guard that patrols the room comes to stand directly in front of his tank—across it, Sidon can see other tanks on the other side, filled mostly with different kinds of sharks—the non-Zora, non-sentient kind. He knows he’s the prime attraction, and the woman stops first by his tank, gesturing to him and eliciting the garbled sounds of a language Sidon hasn’t _quite_ gotten. He’s given up trying to spout his own verse back to her, but he does come near the glass wall to see the children. They all look at him in awe while the woman talks, and he performs a few rudimentary tricks to watch them light up with joy. Just a few easy circles in backstroke, and they’re clapping their tiny hands and cheering. It isn’t the purpose he wanted in life, but it is something to do, and causing happiness in others makes it easier to keep his own pain at bay. He entertains them until the woman ushers them on to the next spot. His guard remains outside his tank, but Sidon still feels alone again.

* * *

Though there are some pleasant moments with the Hylians, Sidon’s grateful when they finally filter out, and his prison’s left mostly empty. It means that one certain Hylian will return soon, and Sidon always looks forward to his gentle face like no other. 

Sure enough, when the lights in the Hylian room flicker half out, a yellow-haired man comes strolling down the hall, various tools clutched in his hand. Sidon’s guard gives him a short greeting, but the new arrival says nothing in return. He never does. He is, as far as Sidon can tell, as unable to talk to the other Hylians as Sidon is, and for that, if nothing else, Sidon feels a bond between them. The man’s eyes flicker instantly to where Sidon swims just beyond the glass, and when Sidon smiles, the man returns it faintly. 

Sidon’s guard leaves, with a few words and _“Link”_ thrown in among them: the one word that Sidon’s gathered to be this Hylian’s name. When the guard’s disappeared down the end of the hall, Sidon comes right up against the glass and breathes, “Link.” His favourite Hylian looks at him again, then comes forward to press his palm against the glass; Sidon presses his back. He remembers the first time they did this, when he’d marveled at how _tiny_ Link’s hand looked against his. It made something tighten in his chest, made a strange warmth stir in him he’d never felt before. He said what he’d thought to be Link’s name, knowing Link couldn’t say his back. But Link had smiled sadly at him: the same haunted smile as now. And Sidon’s sure that Link _understands_.

Link slowly pulls his hand away, and Sidon just wants to break through the glass and hold it again. Usually, Link will withdraw from him, start to sweep his tools over the floor and wipe a cloth along the glass, but tonight, Link just steps back to peer down either hall. He nods his head at Sidon, then disappears down the left one, and Sidon fights off the pang of intense _longing_ that Link always takes with him.

* * *

A few idle laps to keep himself busy, and Sidon comes to settle against the side of his tank that faces the Hylian room—usually, Link will come back at some point, and eat a meal next to him. That was when they first connected, and he saw in Link’s sea-blue eyes that Link really _knew_ what he was: a true _Zora_ , a _person_ , not just another mindless fish. Link never looks at the other sharks the way he looks at Sidon. But Link is just one little Hylian, and he can’t do anything against all the others around him, all those that refuse to see Sidon as an intelligent being. At least Link’s face isn’t always full of pity, just a kindred sort of sadness, and Sidon always looks forward to his return.

Eventually, Sidon hears a knock against the dome. He looks up to see Link’s handsome form leant against it. Link doesn’t usually go there, and this is earlier than his normal break, and he doesn’t hold the treasure chest he always brings full of his Hylian food. Instead, he holds up a small object that glistens in the moonlight, and Sidon swiftly swims to the surface to get a better look.

Link holds a _key_. It isn’t so different than the kind Zoras use on chests. At first, Sidon doesn’t understand why Link has one, until Link clicks it into the lock next to the round metal door of his cage.

Link twists it, then pushes at the flap, even though it took nearly half a dozen Hylians to open and close it when they first brought Sidon in—they weren’t taking any chances. Link gets to his feet and pries at it anyway, grunting and going taut with the effort. Sidon’s immediately touched, then darts up to help; he pushes at the cover form his end, glad now that he’s kept up his exercise and his muscles remain strong. Together, they slowly pry the hatch open, until Link topples over, groaning and breathing hard, but able to look at Sidon with only air between them. They’ve never been closer. 

For the first few seconds, Sidon is too stunned to move. Link’s far stronger than Sidon gave him credit for. More than that, he’s _heroic_ , sneaking here in the dead of night, in the absence of the other Hylians, clearly going against his own people to open Sidon’s cage. Then Link regains himself and thrusts a hand through the hole—Sidon latches onto it, marvels at the wondrous _heat_ beneath Link’s smooth skin, and lets himself be hauled through. 

As soon as Sidon’s clambered out onto dry land, he embraces Link fiercely. It doesn’t even occur to him to do anything else. He pulls Link against his broad chest and holds Link tightly against him, his face burying into Link’s soft hair, his fingers clutching Link’s blue covering. He breathes in the rich, unimpeded scent of _Link_ , until now only diluted between glass and water, and he breathes, “Thank you,” into Link’s arched ear.

He knows Link doesn’t understand him. He knows Link can’t answer him. But as he slowly pulls away again, he insists, “You are the greatest friend I could ever ask for! Thank you.”

Link smiles up at him, cheeks stained a sudden pink that Sidon’s come to learn means embarrassment or, in the case of the couples that sometimes stand outside his tank, ardour. Sidon takes one of Link’s small hands the way he’s seen other Hylians do, and he squeezes it tight.

The rest of the space around them is much like he remembers—a winding path full of other domes and open tanks, then a building behind them, which Link turns and tugs Sidon towards. Sidon gratefully follows—he has no notion of where to go from here. But he trusts Link implicitly. When he first saw Link, he was sure that Link was inherently _good_ , and this only confirms it. He treasures the way Link’s slender fingers feel in his. He only hopes he hasn’t gotten Link into too much trouble for this—he couldn’t stand the thought of Link in another, drier prison.

* * *

The complex is like a maze, and Sidon keeps half expecting for monsters to spring out of it like his father warned him of—apparently, his father was right about the jails Hylians used to keep such evils in. And his father was right about straying too close to those Hylians too, though Sidon would’ve dearly liked to prove them to be a welcome ally. At least he wasn’t _entirely_ wrong; Link is a noble person.

Link guides him faithfully throughout the various halls. Sidon’s in awe of what he sees, the sort of things the Hylians have caught and caged, and is immensely grateful that he passes no more Zoras. The rest are all non-sentient creatures, some friendly and some not, until Link reveals another key to push them through a large set of doors. Then they go down a ramp and out into a wide, grey field, full of the machines Sidon was first brought in. Large, bulky, and square, they have four odd circles each along the bottom and glass around the front. Link takes Sidon around the back of one, opens metal doors, and sheepishly gestures for Sidon to get in. Sidon has to climb up onto the platform, and then he laughs at what he finds there: a small, round pool of water made of some buoyant material. He climbs in and contently sits down, letting it lap about his waist. Silhouetted beautifully in the starlight, Link gives him another smile.

Then Link closes the doors, Sidon hears footsteps outside, and the back of Link’s head reappears in front of him, separated by a metal wall and some sort of cushion that Link sits on. Link touches the machinery in front of him, and it lights up like the guardians used to. Then the whole machine starts to move—Sidon can feel it thrumming all around him—and all he can think is: _he’s free_.

* * *

Link makes the machine move for some time, during which Sidon sits in his little pool and stares at the back of Link’s head, wondering if it’s only Hylian Link can’t speak. Maybe Sidon could teach him the language of the Zoras. Or maybe Link _can_ talk and simply chooses _not_ to, and someday Sidon could earn a few special words out of him. Link is a special sort of person. Occasionally, he looks back at Sidon, cheeks bright and eyes genuine, but then it’s always back to his task again. Sidon feels like he’s in good hands. 

When Sidon’s gone through two yawns and started to struggle to stay awake, the machine finally comes to a stop. Link disappears from his space at the front, and then the back doors are open again, and he holds out a hand. Sidon climbs out of his pool to take it and lets Link help him out of the machine, until he’s standing on dry dirt, and looking out at the sea.

Immediately, Sidon does a double take, eyes growing wide. He wasn’t sure where Link would take him—surely, Link couldn’t _know_ the right place, but he did, or close enough—Sidon recognizes the swerving line of the shore. It’ll take half a day of swimming to reach the domain, but from here, he can. He takes an awe-struck step towards the water, then _runs_ down into the sand, stopping just short of the ebbing tide. It feels immeasurably good to sink into.

He turns back to the truck, where Link wears his sad smile again. Sidon feels a familiar pang. If he swims off now, he might never see Link again.

He rushes back in an instant and scoops Link up in his arms again. He crushes Link against him, not wanting to let go—he basks in Link’s warmth, Link’s softness, and the intense pleasure Sidon gets just from his presence. Though he knows that Link can’t understand, Sidon gushes, “Thank you. You can never know how grateful I am. You are my most treasured friend! _Thank you_.” This time, Link doesn’t push him away, and Sidon is the one that must force himself to let go. He keeps his hands on Link’s slim shoulders, and he says, trying to communicate with just their eyes, “Come see me again. _Please_. I... I will return, occasionally, and look for you...”

Link hangs his head, smiling widely, and Sidon thinks he might have a bit of moisture in the corner of his eyes. Then he lifts his head again, licks his lips thoughtfully while his gaze is averted, and finally turns to point along the shore. Sidon follows it to a small hut at the edge of the inlet, tucked neatly in amongst the foliage. Sidon looks back at Link to ask, “Is that your home?” 

Link nods, and Sidon sincerely hopes that, somehow, they’ve understood one another. Sidon cups Link’s face in both hands and insists, “I will visit. Thank you.” Link’s smile is radiant, like the pale moon reflecting down through the water. There are no gems in all of Zora’s Domain as beautiful as Link is to Sidon. 

Sidon hugs him again. It’s so hard to let go. But he finally does, and as he runs off towards the sea, he shouts, “You are incredible, and the greatest of Hylians of all time! THANK YOU!”


End file.
